Not A Club They Asked To Join
by TerryJ
Summary: ONE SHOT episode tag of 7.19 'Love Lost' - Grief, loss, understanding, acceptance, hope. A common bond brings unexpected friendship and healing. Why did Frank really show up to the meeting at the end of the episode and was there more to Shelley Wayne's empathetic welcome?


Shelley Wayne smiled politely at the people she had come to know over the past year, even as she pushed past them. She did her best to navigate through the small talk and typical strained socializing but, even moving with purpose, by the time she got to the back of the small church room her target had vanished.

Tossing on her shawl, she hurried out the door and to the sidewalk.

She easily spotted him, a head above some of the other departing attendees, his methodical pace taking him only about 50 feet from the church entrance.

"Commissioner."

He turned at the sound of his title and his eyes tracked her as she moved briskly to catch up with him.

For a moment nothing was said, his lips remained firm but his eyes were soft.

Shelley sighed and her shoulders bowed, "I just wanted to say..." She tried a smile, "I'm glad you came."

Frank's mouth tightened and his chin dipped in a barely perceptible nod, "I thought you had a valid point, the other day, at the courthouse."

She took a long time to look him over, allowing her eyes to trace his face in a way she hadn't bothered to see him during their previous meetings. "That may be _why_ you came; but that's not why _I'm_ glad you're here."

He frowned and tilted his head but remained silent, giving her the space to continue.

She looked away for a beat, still seeking the right words, "I'm sorry for those things I said." She looked back up, meeting his eyes, "I didn't know you lost a son."

The corner of his mustache twitched and he looked down.

She shook her head, "Why didn't you stop me? Just tell me?"

He looked back up, giving a slow shrug of a single shoulder, "Would it have made you feel better?"

"No..." She frowned, "But that's hardly the point."

"It was the _only_ point." He stared back at her with intensity, "You were a grieving mother looking for answers. Pointing out misconceptions would have only served to make things worse."

She blinked and released an unstable breath, "Well then I give you more than my apology, I give you my thanks."

He replied with a tight lipped smiled which raised his cheeks and crinkled his eyes.

He looked away, back in the direction of the church, "It was nice. What you did here." He gestured with a hand still buried in his coat pocket.

"It's terrible what's brought us together but it's a good group of people." She agreed following his gaze in the direction of the departing parents. She looked back up to him, "We do this one twice a month; you'll always be welcome if you ever wanted to come back."

He turned quickly to look back in her direction, smile gone. "Maybe." He looked down. "You were right that my department should be more connected to the community in this neighborhood."

"That's not what I meant." She shook her head.

He glanced at her but looked away again, this time down the street in the opposite direction of the church.

She bit her lip, "It was Harold McKay, my lawyer, who told me about your son."

He looked back to her, silently waiting.

"I was venting pretty much as I had at you, but he corrected me. Told me you did, in fact, know what it was like to loose a child." A breeze came through and she wrapped her arms around herself. "I went to the library, looked it up in the newspaper archives on the computer."

She looked down the road, in the direction he had been previously, "It happened not far from here, right?"

Frank looked back down the road again, "Over two blocks, down three. On the other side of the park." His voice was quiet, raspy.

She looked at him, "Is that where you were headed just now?"

"Not consciously." He faced her again with sheepish acknowledgement.

She tilted her head, "Why?"

He gave a half shrug, "Don't you ever..." He paused, eyes roaming before coming back, "Feel drawn to the place where you know your son was last alive?" His chin quivered before his jaw clenched it still.

"Commissioner Reagan," She shook her head and looked down, "My Charles was killed on the sidewalk in front of our apartment." She looked up, "I couldn't avoid that place if I tried." She breathed out and her eyes lost focus, "And I have. Tried."

His eyes widened fractionally and he bowed his head, " _That_ I do not think I could do."

"There's a lot I didn't think I could do before this." She muttered, taking a deep breath and releasing it.

"Yeah..." He exhaled, eyes tracing the pavement around their feet.

She looked back up to him, eyes knit, "It's been a long time for you."

"8 years next month." He provided automatically, "Sometimes it feels like a long time." He looked back, meeting her eyes, "Other times not so much."

She pulled on her fingers, "And it still hurts? After all that time?"

He rolled his lips until they disappeared under his mustache and his eyes flicked across her face. He sighed, "Ms. Wayne, you will _never_ not miss your son."

She clenched her jaw, "That's not what I asked."

She shook her head, "I'm looking for the truth. Each day I go to bed thinking tomorrow will be better, this hole in my heart will feel less, I'll feel less like I'm just putting on a front but inside I'm just managing to get by. I'm waiting for that day that they say, the one where time heals all wounds and the pain dulls." She blinked back the tears that had begun to build, "So tell me Commissioner Reagan, after 8 years, does it _still_ feel like this?"

His chin trembled again, despite the tension in his jaw and a moisture grew in his eyes. "Every day." He whispered with a small affirmative nod.

She swallowed the gasp at his admission and focused on breathing.

After a long tense moment she looked back up to see him watching her intently, "How...How do you...?" She shook her head, unable to finish the sentence.

"How do you?" He returned quietly.

She blinked, looked down, looked back to the small crowd of people chatting outside of the church doors. "I find ways to cope." She shrugged and looked back at him, "Spend time with people I care about. Occasionally yell at public officials." She tried to smile, leaning forward.

"Me too."

The tight smile returned and she breathed in the honesty of the moment.

He exhaled through his nose and looked over her shoulder at the dispersing crowd. He licked his lips, his smile morphing into more of a smirk, "You know, that Santa story you told reminded me..."

She raised her eyebrows and looked at him, though he did not look back at her, his eyes remaining somewhere in the distance, "Oh?"

He nodded, "I thought for sure I had the kids with the whole Santa thing the year Joe turned 8. The department has a couple of suits for charity appearances. My father put one on and came to the house the week before. He called them each by name, made a comment about things they had done well and reasons they'd been in trouble; he even knew their teacher's names, said they were Santa's spies,"

The tension eased from his frame. "They ate it up. Mary and I high fived after Pop left and Erin ran to clean her room." He shook his head. "But Joe..." He looked back to Shelly, the fond smile lighting his face, "He had gone snooping and found the presents hidden in our bedroom. But that wasn't enough." He grinned, "Joe not only found the presents but he made a list of all the serial numbers and upc codes he could find on every toy. Then, on Christmas morning, he went around with his list and compared it to each of Santa's presents."

Shelley covered her smile with her fingers, stifling her laugh.

Frank joined her, shaking his head, "I raised 3 cops and an ADA...hard to keep a secret in that house."

"I'd bet!" She grinned.

His grin slipped away and he blinked, looking down, "The kicker of it is, the thing that was special about Joe? At all of 8 years old he pulled me aside and very seriously showed me his lists. But then he said, 'Don't worry Pop, I won't tell.'"

He met her eyes and smirked, "I had to bribe his older brother with extra chocolate in his stocking for him to keep his mouth shut...but not Joe."

She dropped her hand from her lips and hugged herself to the fond memory. She smiled, "Charles found out for good when I forgot to take the price sticker off one year." She shrugged, "He didn't tell his cousins though. He was a real good kid."

Frank frowned for a beat but he nodded sincerely, "I'm sure he was."

She leaned back, considering him for a moment, "I do hope you'll come back." She waited for him to look back at her, "Maybe tell us a little more about Joe?"

His mouth opened but he remained silent as he looked around the quiet street, "I don't talk much about Joe."

"But didn't it feel good just now?" She encouraged.

"Now." He nodded, "Yes." But his face remained somber.

"So?" She tilted her head.

He looked away, "Do you know how much scotch I'll have to drink to even try to sleep tonight?" He tried to lighten the comment with a smile but it came out sad and self-effacing, "And I have work in the morning."

Shelley dismissed his attempt at brushing off his confession, "I understand that, I do." She shook her head, "It's easy to talk about the good memories, but alone, at night, the good thoughts are followed by the if-only's and the never-agains..." She looked back, locking eyes, "But it gets easier. After 8 months of these meetings I can talk about Charles and yes I'm sad after, but no more so than I am all the time now. And at least I had that bright spot in my week where I remembered the gift he was to my life."

She shook her head, "And if I stumble, I'm surrounded by those who understand without my having to explain. It hurts me to think there are so many others who live with these same feelings but I'm so grateful I have them." She chewed on the inside of her lip, "Maybe...if I keep doing this, talking about Charles and listening to others talk about their children...maybe in 7 years the pain won't be so bad anymore for me, maybe it really will get better." She blinked back her tears as she looked in to his face which had turned stony, "I'd like to think it's never too late to try."

Frank's mouth opened and closed again. He looked away down the road and released a slow, long exhale.

"You may not be from here, but you lost a child here. You're one of us and you'll always be welcome." She smiled gently, "Whenever you choose, even if you insist it's just as an NYPD presence and some kind of community outreach."

He looked back, abashed, "The department does care about the violence that happens here."

"I believe some of you do." She accepted.

"But you're right we should do better." He continued.

"We can all always do better." She nodded.

He frowned and looked away before looking back, "Every other Tuesday?"

She smiled, "8pm. Usually done by 8:45."

He nodded, pursing his lips. "I suppose that will mostly work with my calendar"

She smiled, "Don't worry about consistency. We all have lives we're working around."

He nodded, "Okay."

"So I'll be seeing you again, Commissioner?" She pushed.

He nodded, "We'll see."

She grinned, "Well, I'm hopeful. Thank you for telling me a little about your son. I won't keep you any longer."

He shrugged, "Can I walk you to your car?"

She shook her head, "I live just around the corner."

"Oh, right." He nodded, turning and walking with her in the direction of the stop sign.

"I hope you have a car?" She asked, "I'm not sure if you noticed but we don't have many taxis coming through this part of the city."

"I have a ride." He gestured to a black SUV parked across the street. The driver flashed its lights in response to his gesture.

"Oh." She nodded.

He frowned, "Though, maybe next time I'll drive myself."

She raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged, "I used to love to drive. Joe did too. When he cried as a baby or got in a fight with his brother, I'd put him in the car and we'd drive all over Brooklyn and Queens."

"That sounds nice." She smiled.

"Yeah..." He faded into the memory.

"This is my turn." She announced when they reached the intersection.

"I could walk you the rest of the way." He offered.

She shook her head, "It's really just at the end of the block." She assured, "And somehow I suspect whomever is in that car wouldn't be too happy if you disappeared from their sight."

He grimaced, "I suppose."

She smiled, "Thank you for offering, it was kind of you Commissioner."

He held out hand, "Please, it's Frank."

"Frank." She accepted the hand shake. "You have a good night."

"You too." He squeezed, "Thank you."

She smiled and turned back down the block. She heard the engine of the SUV turn over and the doors open and close and as it sped past her in the direction of the Belt Parkway she thought over the incidents that brought her to this night.

She passed the spot on the sidewalk that had long been washed of the blood stain and sent up a prayer for Charles, for her family, and for grieving parents everywhere.


End file.
